


Baby

by AnnaOfMirkwood



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Body Worship, Collars, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, I think I got everything, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light BDSM, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Praise Kink, Safeword Use, Scene Gone Wrong, Sub Bucky Barnes, brief use of blindfolds and restraints, mentions of spanking and being forced to come, oh and there are pretzels, sensory play, steve loves calling bucky nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaOfMirkwood/pseuds/AnnaOfMirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hazy. That’s the only way he knew how to describe it. Everything was at once too hot and too cold, too loud and too quiet, too much pleasure and too much pain—but not in the good way that left him intoxicated and floating. His throat was too tight and his head started to ache. His head…</p><p>Now with accompanying art by sargeantstuckbutts!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostinthefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthefire/gifts).



Hazy. That’s the only way he knew how to describe it. Everything was at once too hot and too cold, too loud and too quiet, too much pleasure and too much pain—but not in the good way that left him intoxicated and floating. His throat was too tight and his head started to ache. His head…

“Steve,” Bucky said, but he’d been saying Steve’s name all night so that didn’t elicit a response—Steve just continued running his sharp nails down Bucky’s already raw sides. He started to panic. He needed up, he needed to tell Steve, but something was holding his tongue, he couldn’t say he was upset, he was not allowed, it did not hurt, it did not feel—

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice broke into his racing thoughts, the hesitancy and worry ringing like wonderful bells, jarring him.

“Red!” Bucky cried out in sudden, blessed clarity. “Red, red!”

He heard one sharp intake and then Steve was pulling the blindfold off in the quickest yet gentlest method he could manage. Bucky gasped in relief as light touched his blinking eyes, savoring in the return of this sense. He could see, he could see! He looked around, still half-expecting the metal tables, needles and IV bags, that damn chair, but all he could see were the soft shades of cream and splashes of blue that colored their bedroom.

“Sshh, shh, baby, it’s okay now, it’s over, I’m so sorry, shh, I’ve got you,” Steve was saying. By this time, he had unfastened the restraints that held Bucky’s arms and legs and was pulling him into his lap, rocking back and forth slightly as he held him to his chest. Bucky realized he was still repeating “red, red” in a shaky whisper, and that the corners of his eyes were wet.

Bucky let himself be babied—he was having trouble getting his body to do anything besides slump into Steve’s protective embrace. He was silent as well, afraid that if he opened his lips then he’d slip into the mantra again. A heavy feeling settled in his stomach and started to slither its way up his throat, making him nauseous. Guilt.

“…talk to me, Buck,” Steve was saying, having let his stream of coddling fade into inquisitions. “Tell me what’s going on in there. Come on Bucky, please. Let me know what I did, what I need to do. Just say something, baby.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky blurted out, and instantly he knew it was the wrong thing to say, even before he saw Steve’s face shift in his peripheral vision.

“…anything but that,” Steve groaned. “Bucky, don’t be _sorry_.”

“That’s more easily said than done,” Bucky groaned. “I shouldn’t have used the word.”

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” Steve interjected, grimacing. “You can always use the word. It’s _there_ to be used.”

“When something’s really wrong, yeah,” Bucky retorted, huffing as he nuzzled his slightly red face into Steve’s bare chest.

“If you were upset at anything at all then it _was_ something really wrong,” Steve said sternly. His tone faltered as he added, “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me— hey!” He yelped as Bucky dug his teeth into one of Steve’s abs, not hard enough to draw blood but certainly enough to be felt.

“Nope,” Bucky said, apologetically running his tongue over the teeth marks. “Don’t start.”

“So, you can blame yourself but I can’t blame myself?”

“Pretty much.”

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly as he pinched one of the angry red stripes on Bucky’s side. “I don’t think that sits well with me.”

“Shit,” Bucky cursed as he wriggled and swatted Steve’s hand away. He massaged the attacked area with his metal fingertips. “Okay asshole, we’re both to blame. Or neither of us. Are you happy? Now let’s just…get back to it?”

Bucky made to kiss Steve and let out a disappointed whine when Steve only pecked him quickly before leaning away.

“Bucky, we need to talk first,” he said, and Bucky groaned. “I need to know what that I did was wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Bucky said, “But you’re killing the mood now. I’m fine, I swear.”

“You’re doing that thing where you lie and brush me off,” Steve frowned. “I _know_ you, Bucky; I can tell when you’re upset. Your hands are shaking.”

Bucky stuffed his fists into his lap. “Can’t we just talk about this after?” he said somewhat petulantly in a last ditch effort.

“Nope,” Steve responded immediately as he started gathering up the discarded blindfold, unhooking the restraints from their bedposts, picking up a few toys lying nearby that he had been intending to use on Bucky while he was prone. Bucky silently watched him at first, but even that became too much and he looked down at his lap instead, at his mismatched hands and ugly scars and those fresh scratches that would normally be a source of pride but now only seemed to mock him. When Steve turned back to face him after everything was gone from sight, Bucky had pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his knees.

“Hey,” Steve said softly as he went back to him, leaning down to Bucky’s level and putting a hand on his back, “hey, it’s okay.”

Bucky didn’t move.

“I…dammit. I just made it worse, didn’t I? I’m sorry Buck—I thought that getting all that stuff outta sight would help…”

“Bucky, please talk to me.”

...

“Bucky. Bucky, c’mon, please.” Steve’s voice wavered slightly in a way it was _not_ wont to do. “Say something, do something. Look at me, baby, just look up.”

“I can’t,” was the almost inaudible moan that whispered from the tense ball.

It was Steve’s turn to be tongue-tied, his hand like a weight on Bucky’s back, not quite as heavy as the silence that grew more oppressive every second, choking him, crushing him—

Steve jumped as Bucky drew a loud, shaky breath, his back vibrating with the effort. The hand moved to his side, the touch so tender and gentle and s _ickening_. He felt his throat tightening and he dug his fingers into his calves, fighting and failing to keep his breathing regular.

“Buck—” Steve tried again, and was met with a choked gasp and furious snuffling as Bucky’s spine tensed up, shaking like a leaf. Steve immediately rushed closer, his arm draped across Bucky’s back, breath hot on Bucky’s shoulder. Too close, too quick, and Bucky tipped over the edge. A sob—a real, pained, desperate moan—ripped through his throat as Steve again pulled him into his arms. He gave in, he was too far gone, he let Steve arrange him like a hurt child in his arms, crying openly and hating himself for doing so.

“T-this is shhhit,” Bucky gasped, chest heaving, despite Steve’s gentle shh’s. “I h-h- _hate_ this! I’m s-so fuck-king disssgusting.”

“You are _not_ ,” Steve said softly but surely as he rubbed circles into Bucky’s back. “Never.”

“I c-can’t do a-anything right,” Bucky swept on as if he hadn’t heard Steve. “I’m n-no good, Steeevie, no g-good.”

“Bucky,” Steve said sharply, making him jolt. He petted Bucky’s hair in apology before continuing, “You are good. You are the _best_ thing that has ever happened to me. You can do so many things right—and you’ve done nothing wrong here. You’re not disgusting, either. You are so beautiful, so strong, so…so…beyond words.”

Bucky said nothing, just sniffled into Steve’s chest, riding the last ebbing waves of his impromptu weeping.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Steve continued quietly. Bucky was probably the only person who knew Steve well enough to pick out the subtle hints of self-loathing in his tone, his air, the little way his throat bobbed.

“ _I_ upset me,” Bucky corrected, his voice hoarse and thick. When Steve looked at him questioningly, he added, “I saw you putting the things away, and I… I know you wanted to use them on me, and I had to go and mess everything up. I’m sorry—and I know you hate me saying that so much, but I am—we’ve been talking about this for a week and we were so excited and I just went and fucked it all up.”

“You…think I’m disappointed in you?” Steve whispered incredulously. Bucky shrugged.

“ _I’m_ disappointed in me. I won’t blame you if you are too—you have a pretty good right.”

“I’d have no damn right,” Steve said vehemently, his voice low but trembling with emotion. Bucky looked up at him in surprise. He saw that Steve’s eyes were red-rimmed. He must have cried some too. Bucky hadn’t noticed. “If I was _ever_ disappointed in you for _hurting_ , being upset…Christ, Bucky. Scum. That’s what I’d be. That’s what anyone is who thinks lowly of you, who hurt or hurts you, who ever acts like you are less than.”

Bucky looked at him wonderingly. “You’re really good at those.”

“What?”

“Motivational speeches. You make me actually wanna like myself.”

“Good. You should.”

“Eh…”

“Bucky…”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Bucky let his head rest on Steve’s shoulder.

“It okay if I move us?” Steve asked, and when Bucky assented, he scooted them back towards the mound of pillows at the head of their bed, keeping Bucky clasped in his arms as he settled him down. They laid there for several minutes. Bucky listened to the ticking of the clock on the bedside table and watched the rise and fall of Steve’s chest. Finally, Bucky spoke, knowing it was best to be honest, even if it made him ashamed, and also that he was going to have to explain himself eventually so he might as well get it down with.

“I was doing okay at first. It was good. Being stuck in place, couldn’t see you—it was exciting. I couldn’t wait to feel what you’d do to me next. But then I guess…I guess I got too lost in it all and forgot it was you on the other side of the blindfold. I felt cold, even though I knew I was hot too, and I kept thinking I was seeing a blinding light when all that was there was black. It…reminded me of waking up from cryostasis. When I’d come out, they’d inject me with stuff to make my body wake up faster, but the problem was that I’d be able to feel before I could move. They’d start working on me and I’d be stuck, couldn’t open my eyes, had no idea what they’d do next and—”

He stopped himself before he could get worked up again, looking everywhere but Steve’s eyes. This was futile, because Steve immediately tilted his chin up to look at him.

“Bucky,” he said brokenly, his lips quivering slightly. “I...Bucky I had no idea that would, I can’t—I’m so _sorry_.”

“Nooo,” Bucky moaned, reaching up to touch Steve’s face. “Stevie no, please, no. _Neither of us_ had any idea this would happen. I see what you’re doing. You’re _not_ taking the blame.”

“I should’ve known,” Steve mumbled, looking miserable, “I should’ve guessed that would happen, I should never have recommended it—Christ, I made you—”

“You didn’t _make_ me do anything. This is all just as much my choice as it is yours.” Bucky said sullenly, adding more darkly, “Trust me, if it came down to it, I could fight back, you know what they made me into.” He shuddered, his eyes far away for a moment, before they darted back up to lock onto Steve’s—a big step forward from a few minutes ago. “You can’t hold yourself to a higher standard than you hold me. Remember what we agreed to when we decided to try…all this? We’re equals, or we’re done. You gonna treat me like an equal or not, Rogers?”

Steve sighed. “Bucky, you know I’d never think of you as less than me. But I just...” he trailed off, biting his lip. Bucky let his head fall back to Steve’s shoulder, waiting patiently. Finally, Steve continued, “I feel afraid sometimes that I’m not fulfilling my end in this. You trust me to lead a-and I don’t always know if I’m leading us in the right direction.”

Bucky remained silent as he picked up one of Steve’s hands and started tracing squiggles onto his skin with his fingertips. “I trust you.” He said simply. Steve started to argue, but Bucky interrupted, “I trust you. That means that if you lead us wrong then I trust you to catch me and let me catch you. Okay?”

There were several heartbeats of silence as Steve considered this. Bucky knew he still wanted to argue, still wanted to blame himself. Steve was stubborn. But Steve was also smart and kind and valued reason. And he loved Bucky.

“Okay,” he agreed eventually, leaning down for a kiss. Bucky, true to his word, trusted him to lead, letting him control the speed, the intensity, the passion. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that—could have been a minute, could have been ten, he really wasn’t concerned—but he did feel slightly antsy when they broke apart.

“Steve?” he asked. “I-I think I need something.”

“Hmm? What d’you need, baby?” Steve asked. Bucky chewed on his lip.

“I need to try again.”

Steve looked disbelieving. “Bucky, no. I’m not doing something to you that I know is going to trigger you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky mumbled, turning away. “Just never mind.”

“Hey, no,” Steve said, turning him back. “I’m sorry, I jumped to conclusions. Tell me then, what do you want to try again?”

“A scene,” Bucky sighed. “I…I need you in control right now, Steve. I need it. I feel like I’m cracking. I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but…please Steve, you gotta hold me together. I don’t wanna fall apart _again_.”

Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s forehead. “Okay Bucky, okay. How do you want this to go? What do you feel up for?”

“Whatever you think I need.” Bucky said quickly. “I need you to choose, lead me. I just want to be good for you.”

Steve looked down at Bucky’s pleading gray eyes, the twitching skin of his neck, the claw marks on his sides, his already abused nipples, the fingerprint-shaped bruises on his calves. Finally, he murmured, “I think I know what you need.”

“Give it to me.”

“Stay here,” Steve said as he untangled himself and went into their closet. Bucky did as he was told, though he did crane his neck to try and see what Steve was retrieving. He returned quickly, holding in his hands a familiar band of black leather. “I think you need this right now,” Steve said as he presented the collar to Bucky. It was simple, the way Bucky liked it—the only adornments were the silver buckle and matching oversized bell (he liked how it jingled every time Steve thrust into him as they fucked). The collar hadn’t even occurred to him earlier, but now that he could see it he craved to have it pressed against his neck. He nodded vigorously and Steve smiled, leaning down to fasten it on. It fit perfectly as always, the bell sitting in the hollow of his neck.

“So beautiful like this,” Steve murmured, playing with some Bucky’s hair, repositioning it to frame his face differently. “Sit on your knees, please.”

Orders were one thing during a scene. Steve adding a _please_ to these orders followed a certain path. Bucky suddenly knew where they were going, and he was _very excited_ , though he tried to keep composed as he folded his legs under him and sat on them. Steve smiled knowingly at him, so Bucky knew his attempt wasn’t successful, but he didn’t really care.

“Now cross your arms behind your head,” Steve said, and when Bucky did so, he purred, “Good boy, just like that. You look like a work of art.” Bucky shivered, loving the endearment. Yes, this was redemption, the chance to show he could be a good boy for his Steve. “Would you like to be art?”

“Do you want me to be art?” Bucky murmured, looking up at Steve.

“You’re always art to me,” Steve said, “but I think you look _perfect—_ your hair,” he moved a strand of hair from Bucky’s eyes, “your neck,” he flicked the bell, making it jingle, “your body,” he ran a finger up one of the long stripes on his side and then along the scarred skin the met the metal of his left arm. Bucky shivered. “I want to draw you,” Steve said. “It’ll be quick—no more than ten minutes. Do you think you can sit like this that long, not move?”

“I can,” Bucky said determinedly, wanting to nod but also not wanting to move his hair if it would ruin how he looked. Steve smiled at him.

“My little doll,” he said as he pulled a chair up beside the bed and grabbed his sketchpad and a pencil.

Bucky held himself still, his eyes only half-open as he listened to the sound of the pencil scratching across paper. He felt hyper-aware of everything—the cool air on his skin, the tingling of his sides, the dryness of his lips, the weight of the collar on his neck. Steve was very punctual, finishing his picture with 48 seconds to spare, according to the bedside clock. Bucky’s eyes flickered back open as Steve stood up and stretched, teasing him, before turning his notepad around to show him his handiwork.

“I like it,” Bucky said. Other than a smile, he didn’t move—Steve hadn’t told him he could yet. “You always were good at that art thing.”

“I’m only as good as the subject,” Steve said, stroking Bucky’s hair. “Such a good boy, sitting so still for me. So proud of you.” Bucky visibly basked in the praise as Steve moved his hands to Bucky’s biceps, gently pushing them down. “You can relax now, baby.”

Bucky let him arms drop and leaned his hips to the side, moving off his legs. He rolled his shoulders and stretched out on his side, flexing stiff muscles. Steve watched him with an amused smile.

“You look like a cat,” he chuckled and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Thought that was the point,” he said, grinning cheekily as he flicked the bell on his collar.

“Eh, part of it,” Steve said, sitting on the bed next to him and moving a strand of hair from his eyes. He really needed a haircut, but he also really liked his hair long. “I was thinking we’d mix a few things. You okay with that, baby?”

“I’m okay with whatever you think I need,” Bucky repeated.

Steve smiled. “Good. Now…get on your hands and knees please.”

Bucky quirked an eyebrow at him before doing as he was told, holding himself with good posture as he posed because he knew Steve liked that. Steve smiled down at him as he knelt beside him, running his hand down the length of Bucky’s exposed spine. Bucky shivered.

“I’m going to touch you,” Steve said, his voice a low whisper. “All over. And I want you to stay like this, as still as you can. Can you do this for me?”

“I can,” Bucky replied, licking his lips in anticipation.

Steve didn’t respond. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Bucky’s metal wrist and pulled it up, forcing Bucky to shift his balance to his right hand. He watched as Steve brought his hand up to his lips and pressed them to his palm, moving then to peck each fingertip, the back of his hand, and up his arm, finally stopping to kiss along the seam where metal turned into scarred flesh. Bucky swallowed and squirmed a little. He always got a little uneasy when Steve paid attention to that part of him. It made him scared, almost, like Steve was kissing a knife or a gun or something. That arm had been made to hurt, and sometimes he didn’t even want to touch Steve with it, untrusting of a part of his body that he had full autonomy over. Steve lifted the metal hand to Bucky’s mouth and Bucky hesitated, even though he knew what Steve wanted him to do.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Steve whispered, his breath hot on his skin where he was still crouched at his shoulder. “But I want you to know that _all_ of you is good.”

“I know.” Bucky said softly. He sighed and placed the lightest of kisses on the back of his hand. “It’s just… it’s getting easier, but still, I can’t—”

Bucky stopped, biting his lip. He couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “It’s okay, baby. You’re trying, and I’m so damn proud of you.” He placed Bucky’s hand back down on the bed and Bucky gratefully shifted some of his weight back on it. He appreciated the affection and praise—more than that, he _craved_ it, _got off_ on it—but at the same time felt like he was riding a borrowed high, like it was going to be ripped away from him some day, _Oh sorry Bucky, I didn’t mean all that stuff I said, I actually think you’re a disgusting monster and never want you near me again_. He knew Steve would never do that to him. But he also knew that his thoughts were cruel and hard _not_ to believe at times.

The bed dipped as Steve clambered around to Bucky’s other side so he could wrap his hand around his right wrist, rubbing comforting circles into the flesh. Then Steve dragged his fingertips up the underside of Bucky’s arm, his touch absent of pressure so that it made Bucky’s skin tingle. If he was ticklish there, he would have fallen into a fit—but Steve knew where he was ticklish and also knew better than to actually tickle him unless he wanted a sharp kick in the side. Those fingers moved slowly up and down his arm, drawing lazy ovals and squiggly lines and shapes he couldn’t identify. His skin prickled wherever Steve’s fingertips ghosted over and he felt the little brown hairs that dotted his skin standing up.

His side was Steve’s next target and it became harder to stay still. He wished Steve would apply some pressure, but no, his touch was feather-light as it moved down his side, drew designs along his back for a few minutes, and then moved up his other side. Steve had to lean over him to reach and Bucky could feel the heat radiating off his body. But Steve refused to let any part of his body except those damn fingertips touch him as he did the process in reverse—down this side, across his back, up his other side. He attacked Bucky’s front with both hands, one hand toying with his stomach, making him twitch and wiggle, the other hand roaming his chest, brushing his nipples as little gasps fell from his lips. He was starting to tremble with the effort it took to stay still…or at least, not move too much.

“You’re doing so, so well,” Steve said as Bucky twitched from his caressing, fighting to keep his arms straight and his legs locked together. This was of course futile, as Steve made his legs the next target. He pushed Bucky’s knees apart but then stopped, staying still for several long moments. A glance over his shoulder showed Bucky that Steve was looking down at him in awed reverence.

“I never get over how beautiful you are like this,” Steve said quietly, almost as if he weren’t speaking to Bucky at all but to himself. “You dunno what it does to me, seeing you spread like this.”

He looked up and their eyes met, but Bucky couldn’t hold his gaze and ducked his head back down. His legs inched slightly back toward each other. Then he swallowed thickly, viewing that as disobedience, waiting for a pinch or slap he knew he’d earned.

That wasn’t Steve’s plan, though. Any other day he’d have popped Bucky’s ass or maybe even dug his teeth into one of those round cheeks, leaving a little reminder that would make sitting a little uncomfortable until it healed in a few hours. But today wasn’t a normal day and Steve knew that any pain wouldn’t be seen as a vehicle to give pleasure—Bucky would take it as a deserved punishment for what he deemed “failures”: safe-wording, crying, even moving his damn legs an inch closer together. So retaliation was the last thing on Steve’s mind as he crawled back up to Bucky’s head, lifting him up by the chin and kissing him.

“What’s your color, baby?” Steve asked softly, stroking his cheek.

“Green…” Bucky said, and when Steve quirked an eyebrow at him, he added, “Maybe green with a yellow tint. Really I’m fine. You know how I get. This is an improvement.”

And it was. Back in what they termed the _dark days_ , Bucky couldn’t accept any kind of compliment or praise. He’d snap back or draw into himself or even have a breakdown. One of his worst memories was making Steve cry because he literally begged him to _hit him, cut him, please hurt me Steve, god I don’t deserve you, DAMMIT HIT ME!_ Steve looked like he wanted to throw up and Bucky locked himself in the bathroom, crying in curled up ball in the shower stall for a solid hour until he finally got up and let Steve in. For both of them, that had been a dark, _red_ day. He was improved now. He stopped trying to hurt himself. He let Steve tell him he was beautiful with minimal discomfort. He even tried to believe him. Most of all, he saw that his mere existence didn’t equate to punishment, and that Steve would never inflict pain upon him without the sole purpose of ultimately making him feel better. Didn’t mean he didn’t relapse occasionally, drop down a peg or two, but Steve was always there to catch him.

“I’m not going to punish you,” Steve reiterated. Bucky felt a little like a child that an adult was trying to teach a relatively simple concept to, but he also couldn’t help the grateful little nod he made at the small smile Steve gave him. It helped to hear things out loud.

“Okay, if you’re sure you’re green, I’m going to move on to something else,” Steve continued, letting his voice drop back down. “I’m going to open you up nice and slow. Did you shower for me earlier like I asked? Clean yourself up good?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered, somewhat ashamed of the whispery little sound it made. Steve observed him for a moment, lips pursed slightly. He then grabbed a pillow and positioned it on the bed.

“You can relax now,” he said. “But I want your hips on here, stomach down, if you don’t mind.”

Bucky flexed for a second and then lowered himself down, aligning his hips with the soft pillow. He was hard from Steve’s teasing touches earlier and he had to swallow a gasp as he pressed down against the soft cotton. He felt a little exposed with his ass up in the air, but he endured it, folding his arms underneath his head and waiting.

“Good boy,” Steve said, massaging circles into the small of Bucky’s back for a few moments before moving back down between Bucky’s legs, grasping him by the backs of his knees and pushing them even farther apart. Steve settled on his chest with his biceps on top of Bucky’s thighs, arms bent at the elbows so he could grasp Bucky’s cheeks in each hand and hold them apart. The exposed feeling doubled momentarily and then turned to anticipation as he felt Steve blow a puff of air against his entrance. He shifted.

“You can squirm all you want,” Steve said, half a concession and half a taunt. “But,” he continued, “I’m not gonna stop unless either you say _red_ or I think you’ve had enough. And I want your arms to stay where you’ve got them, if you can do you that. Can you do that for me?”

Bucky nodded, licking his lips as he laid his head back down on his arms, grasping his elbows in his hands to lock them in place.

“So good,” Steve said softly as he bent his head back down. Bucky gasped as Steve dribbled spit down between his crack, letting it slide down for several seconds before running his tongue up the path. He spent a long time swirling his tongue in circles around his rim. His hands still clenched his cheeks, holding them apart. Steve also hadn’t shaved in a few days and there was a stubble on his chin that would occasionally scrape against his skin in the loveliest way possible. Bucky was breathing through his mouth, starting to pant as Steve would probe his rim with his tongue, just barely pushing inside him before darting back out again.

“Mmmhrr,” Bucky moaned, rubbing his forehead against his forearms in frustration. He tried moving his hips but Steve’s hold on his ass was firm. His dick was trapped between him and the pillow and he couldn’t move to give himself some friction, though he could steadily feel himself throbbing. He couldn’t stuff a hand down there and help himself along either—no, he’d be good, good for Steve, wouldn’t move his arms.

Steve mumbled something against him, and Bucky shivered a little at the sensation it caused. “Hmm?” he called out dazedly. Steve lifted his head up slightly and repeated, “So good for me, don’t worry, I’m almost done.” Bucky sighed, half relief and half disappointment. Being eaten out was good, don’t get him wrong. But it was also odd and wet in weird places and torturous because Steve just couldn’t go deep enough to give him real stimulation. It was one of Steve’s favorite ways to both prep and tease him.

After swishing his tongue a little more, Bucky whining and groaning above him, Steve crept one of his hands forward and pushed a finger into Bucky’s hole along with his tongue. Bucky choked a little, letting his breath back out in a shuddering gasp.

“Mmm, y-yeah,” he moaned, feeling himself flex involuntarily around the intrusion as Steve pushed his finger in all the way to his second knuckle, curling and uncurling before sliding out a little so he could push a second in with it. The stretch was a little stronger and Bucky swallowed. “St-Stevie…”

“Can you take one more for me, baby?” Steve asked, his voice a little throatier than before. “Oh god you’re doing so well, taking it so good, almost there.”

“More,” Bucky groaned, trying to push up against Steve’s hand and drive his fingers deeper inside. Steve chuckled slightly and said, “So needy.”

“You m-make me this waaay,” Bucky groaned, stuttering off as Steve pushed in a third finger. The stretch was definitely there now but Bucky welcomed it, and it became subordinate to the pleasure as Steve would press against his prostate and make him jerk, gasp, cry out.

“Steve, Steve, y-you’re gonna make meee come,” Bucky pleaded, “please, wanna come…w-with you inside me… please Stevie please.”

Bucky was both happy and upset when Steve finally decided he was ready. He pulled out of him, leaving him feeling empty and vulnerable for a few moments. Steve leaned over him and grabbed a bottle of lubricant from the bedside table. He felt Steve’s dick knock against his hip as he moved and heard his intake of breath. Bucky wanted to turn around, cheekily offer to slick him up himself, and toss the lube to the floor, using his mouth to do the job and wring Steve out like he’d done him. But he hadn’t been told he could move his arms yet, and he couldn’t get up without doing that. As Steve popped open the cap and squirted a generous amount onto his palm, Bucky watched over his shoulder as Steve stroked himself for a moment, breathing ragged and little groans escaping ever now and then, his cock red and fully erect. Bucky wondered how long he’d been that hard. Probably since he’d looked wonderingly between his legs as if his asshole held the answers of the universe.

“I could help you with that, y’know,” Bucky offered, licking his lips and grinning. Steve gave himself one last tug and then released, pulling in a deep breath.

“If I let you _help_ ,” he said, “I’d never get you off, you little leech.”

Bucky snorted. “Says the guy who just literally ate my ass.”

Steve smirked. “Point taken,” he granted, chuckling. “Now budge up. I want my baby on top.”

Happily sitting back up, Bucky watched as Steve tossed the pillow to floor. It had a wet spot on it. That would have to be washed. The bed-sheets luckily wouldn’t, as they always draped towels over the bed when they were doing a scene.

Steve sat down and leaned back against their pillows as Bucky clambered after him, straddling him with a leg on each side of his hips. He found Steve’s dick and guided the head to his entrance with his hand. He was about to start pushing when Steve stopped him, grabbing his wrist. Bucky looked up at him, confused.

“Color?” Steve asked. Of course.

“Green,” Bucky said. “Emerald. Forest. Lime. Fucking avocado. Any shade of green you can think of, I’m _it.”_

“Think you made your point well enough?” Steve drawled. “Or should we Google all the different possible shades?”

“Fuck that,” Bucky groaned as he lowered himself down a little, Steve’s head pressing into his entrance. The stretch was there, a little intense, but nothing he hadn’t felt before—and _ahh_ once it was in… “Oh, _fuck_ Steve.”

“Mmmm,” was all Steve retorted with, his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the headboard. His hands gripped Bucky’s waist, trembling slightly, aching to push Bucky down farther but restraining himself.

Bucky pressed slowly down, moving his hips to take a little more at a time until he finally bottomed out, ass resting on Steve’s pelvis. He let out a groan.

“ _Christ_ , Steve, I love doing it like this,” he moaned, gingerly touching his stomach. “I can fucking _feel_ you in there.”

Steve groaned again, flexing his grip on Bucky’s hands. “So tight, always so perfect, so good.”

“Really?” Bucky asked as he rocked back and forth, getting used to the presence.

“God yes,” Steve breathed, licking his lips. “Can’t believe how lucky I am, no one’s this lucky. How’d I end up with you, so good, my beautiful doll, always so g-good for me.”

“Pleeease keep talking,” Bucky groaned, gathering momentum, listening to the tingle of the bell on his neck.

“Beautiful, beautiful, always love looking at youuu. Wanna g-grab you and never let you go, kiss every i-inch of your body and then start all over again, t-touch your hair and your skin and your metal, show you one day exactly how you make me feel, somehow I sw-swear…”

Steve rambled on, his broken phrases mingled with the tumult of _ooh_ s, _ahh_ s, and _ohh_ s that poured from his lips like water over a ledge. Everything flowed perfectly, moving together like a pendulum, always in tune with each other as if they were of one mind, one body. That’s what Bucky felt like with Steve inside him—connected, conjoined by something more than just flesh, linked with each other in body, mind, and soul, if Bucky believed he still had one.

He leaned down without breaking rhythm to attack Steve’s lips in something sloppy and ragged that could possibly be described as a kiss. Steve didn’t seem to mind that it lacked finesse—he kissed him back enthusiastically, hooking a finger around the band of his collar to hold him there. His mouth was warm and familiar and everything perfect to Bucky. He rubbed a hand up and down Steve’s chest, which was actually one of his most sensitive areas. He twitched and gasped into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky seemed to devour it and demand more.

“Bucky, agghhh, mmphhh, baby please, I’m g—” Steve tried to warn, but Bucky picked up his pace, moving faster and pushing Steve as deep as he could, groaning as he listened to throaty cry that issued from his throat at he came, buried in Bucky up to the hilt. Bucky felt warmth spread inside him, driving away for a moment any memory that he had ever felt the cold, _cold? what was cold? how could he ever lack warmth when Steve shone like the sun?_ He stopped moving completely, panting as he let Steve ride out his orgasm, his own cock throbbing at the way Steve’s nose squinched up, held, and then released into a long, ragged, broken groan, his head lolling slightly to the side and his grip going slack. His eyes blinked back open and drifted towards Bucky. He smiled lazily at him.

“C’mere,” he slurred, “lemme finish you off.”

Bucky, in a bout of triumphant disobedience, shook his head. “Let me come here,” he begged, “let me come with you inside me, _please_ Stevie.”

Steve licked his lips and nodded, his hooded eyes watching as Bucky started lazily jerking himself off. There was something especially erotic about touching himself while Steve watched, his blue eyes darting between Bucky’s face and his working hands.

“God, yesss…” Bucky moaned, “t-tell me I’m good Steve, tell me I’m—”

“You’re so good, Bucky, so good. Shit, I can’t get enough of you. So beautiful. Yeah, just like that, baby, just like that. Keep going, you look so beautiful, god, I should draw this too, make you jack yourself slow, won’t let you finish till I’m done…”

The thought of actually being able to pleasure himself while Steve watched him but explicitly not being allowed to finish was enough to push Bucky over the edge, seizing up as he spurted out in rivets across Steve’s chest. A splatter landed on his plump lips. Steve’s tongue darted out and licked it off.

Bucky continued softly massaging his dick into softness, groaning at how over sensitive he was. Now would be a perfect time for forced orgasms, Steve sending him again and again over the edge until he felt like he couldn’t possibly come anymore but yet he would, a dry-heaving, twitching, sobbing mess. He doubted Steve would go for that today though, and honestly Bucky wasn’t really aching for it either. Now that he was satiated, he felt…exhausted. Not so much from the actual sex itself, though that was always exhilarating, but from the emotional rollercoaster of the last…two hours, thank you very much clock. It must have showed on his face, because Steve was shifting underneath him.

“C’mon baby, pull out now, nice and slow,” Steve cooed as Bucky raised himself up, grimacing as Steve’s flaccid cock slid out of him along with some lube and spunk.

“Not my favorite part,” he murmured as Steve laid him down on his side next to him. Steve sat up, stretched luxuriously, giving Bucky a nice view of his chiseled muscles, the dumb Adonis. He made to remove Bucky’s collar, but Bucky shook his head.

“Just a little longer?” he asked. Steve nodded and instead grabbed one of the towels that covered the bed and used it to wipe them down.

“I can get a washcloth,” Steve offered, but Bucky locked his metal hand around Steve’s wrist.

“No,” he said petulantly, refusing to move from where Steve placed him. “Stay here. Snuggle. Talk to me about feeling. I don’t know, domestic shit.”

Steve laughed. “At least let me pull the covers over us,” he said, and Bucky grudgingly conceded. Of course, this was also the moment when his stomach chose to growl. Steve looked at him and Bucky shrugged. “What?” he said. “Okay, I haven’t eaten anything since I showered. You know food still goes right through me.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m getting you food,” he said as he started to get up, but Bucky’s grip was insistent.

“I’ll eat later.”

“You’ll eat now.”

“Urgh…compromise with me. There’s a bag of pretzels in the bottom drawer.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. Bucky defended, “What? I was hungry and you weren’t home and I wanted to lie around in bed. You can’t blame me—no eating in bed is a stupid rule.”

“It is not. I knew I felt grit in here.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky said as Steve dug around in the drawer, pulled out the offending bag, and settled back down. He sat the bag between them and fished around for the TV remote. He fed Bucky pretzels by hand as they watched Chopped reruns until Bucky fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So...yeah. This is what I came up with. And it's also the first time I've ever written BDSM...I rewrote this three times. So please, if I got something blatantly wrong (or even minor little details) please tell me. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for letting me participate in this fic exchange!
> 
> Many, MANY thanks to http://sargeantstuckbutts.tumblr.com/ for making this commission for me! :D Seriously....LOOK AT THEIR GLORIOUSNESS AND BEAUTY. Seriously, go check out their beautiful Stucky fanart and check their commission stuff because I promise you, THEY ARE HOLY THINGS. :D


End file.
